


Nothing Scares Me Anymore

by asianellenpage



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 08:56:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asianellenpage/pseuds/asianellenpage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short account on Carol Marcus' life, laughs and love in Starfleet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Scares Me Anymore

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: strongly inspired by Lana del Rey's song "Summertime Sadness". This fic also has literary references to F Scott Fitzgerald and his book "The Great Gatsby" as well as Stephen Chbosky and his book-turned-movie "The Perks of Being A Wallflower". All referenced works are not mine. These works are just beautiful.

An excerpt found on a sub-thread in the Urban Legends thread in the Starfleet Academy inter-class network:

> Blind item #246: When the starship Enterprise saved Earth last year I was in my first year of enlistment. I was volunteered to help clear the rooms of the female crewmen along with 12 other girls. I was assigned the room of the current Communications officer of the Enterprise (and one of the deceased engineers from the Narada incident). When I entered her room I saw this on the wall, gathering dust. 

* * *

_Kiss me hard before you go_  
 _Summertime sadness_  
 _I just wanted you to know_  
 _That, baby, you're the best_

If love is anything to go by, you would be the captain of a starship and she would be your first officer. Or the other way around.

But she was pretty and brave and meant for other things – starship things, while you were meant to be on a starbase formulating equations and designing weapons.

You don’t understand why you’re thinking this way; it’s only your second year in the Academy. But she’s already famous for her language prowess, and you’re only known for being the daughter of Starfleet’s highest-ranking admiral. One more year before she gets deployed to the different depths of space, you in a starbase in the Gamma Quadrant or here in Earth, and her in one of the newest and best (she deserve only the best) ships in the fleet, talking, hailing, communicating in foreign languages with foreign tongue.

It’s the mid-semester break. The summer sun fiercely attacking this side of the word, you miss the cold of Wales but all you know is that you need to see her before she beams to wherever she’s spending her break.

And you do see her.

You were coincidentally in the same transporter facility when her roommate, the strangely red-headed Orion pointed you out, and she waves enthusiastically.

It takes your whole will power not to touch her and take her hand and tell her not to wherever she’s heading, but you don’t. Instead, you stand still and it’s her who reaches out for you.

Her best friend/roommate has already fully beamed away when she takes your elbow and latches to it, talking hurriedly and excitedly about her plans, and she asks about yours, and you almost say, “thinking about you”, but you don’t. Instead you smile and tell her that you’ll be going to London to see your mother.

She gasps and remembers that your parents are separated and she gives you a hug and presses her cheek to yours, squeezing your face, and she walks away, waving her goodbyes to you as she steps onto the transporter and beams to Africa.

* * *

 

_I got my red dress on tonight_  
 _Dancing in the dark in the pale moonlight_  
 _Done my hair up real big beauty queen style_  
 _High heels off, I'm feeling alive_

It’s your father’s birthday so you beam from London a week early, and by coincidence, so does she. You’re the only person around from her year that isn’t Jim Kirk so she decides to latch herself onto you, again, because apparently extroverts get nervous when lonely and she doesn’t want Kirk trying to talk her up, she explains.

You swallow it and digest it and engrave it into your being. You will remember this.

You ask her to come with you to your father’s birthday – it’s a black-tie event and you love those, because other than good steak and wine it’s an excuse to wear pretty heels that the Academy strongly discourages their female students to wear – and you don’t want her to be alone while you’re getting trashed in some strange ballroom without a designated “driver”, so you bring her along.

She tells you that you look stunning in the glittering red floor-length dress you’re wearing that exposes a quarter of your back, and she helps you pin up your very short hair so that fillers are the only bits of hair hanging from you head, and those fillers are curled lightly.

And you end up admitting to yourself that yes, you do look stunning without saying it out loud, and you hope that she really does mean it – that you look stunning, because you won’t really be as happy if someone else says it.

* * *

 

_Oh, my God, I feel it in the air_  
 _Telephone wires above are sizzling like a snare_  
 _Honey, I'm on fire, I feel it everywhere_  
 _Nothing scares me anymore_

You’re wasted.

You leave the ball room barefooted, into the big, big balcony outside with a flute of pungent white wine that you seem to not get enough of, your white stilettos in your other hand. You’re twirling and giggling, swaying, a dazed expression on your face, and she’s standing by the door, trying not to laugh as she grabs you by the shoulders gently and removes the flute from you.

You giggle again – you’ve lost your self-control – and you take her by the wrists and you two are twirling round and round – you’re in your own world – and the wine is spilling in drips and drabs from the flute to your hand and hers, but you won’t stop twirling and she’s protesting but she’s laughing and twirling along with you and you declare it as the best night of your life.

* * *

 

_Kiss me hard before you go_  
 _Summertime sadness_  
 _I just wanted you to know_  
 _That, baby, you're the best_

You are so intoxicated you run out of the hotel and into the general darkness of the streets, and she follows closely, shrieking after you, calling your name, and you think she’s angry but you can’t control yourself enough to stop for anyone.

You start screaming once you are far enough, far from what; you’re not sure, because the hotel lights are still visible and are twinkling like stars in your absolute intoxication.

You see twinkles, everything is twinkling brightly and you are behaving like a child. You’re reaching out for all the twinkling things, and you almost get hit by a car crossing the road the same way that girl in the F Scott Fitzgerald book was, but she pulls you back and car starts honking and it’s just so twinkly like the stars that she will one day explore without you and if it weren’t for the irrational fear you have of what might be you don’t tell her.

But now those fears have taken the backseat and you forget them, taking her by the wrists and you twirl her around and you giggle – all over again as she squeaks in surprise.

* * *

 

_I've got that summertime, summertime sadness_  
 _S-s-summertime, summertime sadness_  
 _Got that summertime, summertime sadness_  
 _Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh_

She takes you back to your dormitories and you’re stumbling because she’s so tall in her black heels compared to your barefooted gloom.

She leads you into the door, about to follow you inside when you’re starting to awaken from your intoxication. You turn around instead, eyes burning, and you tell her that she can return to her own dormitory. She’s probably very tired, but she expresses her uncertainty on whether she should leave you but you intentionally soften your red eyes and you assure her that you can manage on your own. She takes you in on a tight hug and thanks you repeatedly for the wonderful night, and asks if you’re sure you’re going to be okay. You hum in response.

You’re savouring the moment. This will not happen any time soon – any more, even. You might as well immerse yourself in it.

She’s sticky and warm, but you hold her tightly and sincerely in return.

She finally breaks away and tells you to take some paracetamol in the morning and she bids you good night as she presses her cheek tightly against yours.

She walks out of the room, the door closing by itself behind her, the sound of clicking heels slowly dying down.

You breathe deeply, and you head for the bathroom.

* * *

 

_I'm feelin' electric tonight_  
 _Cruising down the coast goin' 'bout 99_  
 _Got my bad baby by my heavenly side_  
 _I know if I go, I'll die happy tonight_

Jim Kirk thought it would be funny to go on a road trip to the next city over the weekend with his girlfriend, who is also her roommate, so to terrify him she imposes, but because Jim Kirk is willing to flirt with two girls at the same time, she coaxes you to join in so that you could help to set him in place. Everyone knows who you are, if he treats you badly you can just breathe a word to your dad and they’ll leave the face of the Earth, she reasons, and you chuckle, because does it really seem that easy? With space and new ship designs and other colony planets, he was never there to watch you closely; it’s evident during the birthday party, with you drinking in his presence whereas in front of your mother you were more terrified and therefore more behaved. And that rift you two knew very well, but were too effortless to actually rectify that. Besides, you were busy and he was busy. Why bother?

So this is how you ended up in the backseat of a rented blue 1966 Chevrolet Impala SS beside the girl you love and the biggest ingrate of your cohort, her roommate riding shotgun, strange red hair frizzing against the cold wind.

Her hair is long and untied, and therefore ferociously flying all over the place, getting in her face and tickling your nose and you two won’t stop laughing in the backseat, your own hair letting loose from the rigid fashion you comb and spray it with into its old wavy form, blowing from the back, making you look grandiose.

Jim Kirk is up front, singing along to 1960s rock songs – today was Throwback Tuesday on the radio station the car was pre-tuned to, and she’s guessing the lyrics and her roommate laughs whenever she gets it wrong, like he she knew better, but you don’t say anything.

The strong wind that blows makes you think that this car is going too fast and Jim Kirk’s laughter terrifies you. It makes you think that he has a maniacal plan to crash the car and murder everyone (it’s a suicide mission!).

But in reality the car is only going at ninety-nine kilometres per hour and you’re at an open freeway and everything is always fast in a freeway.

The thought of death, a mantra of “we’re going to die” repeating over and over in your head. But instead of feeling terrified and yelling for Jim to slow down, you find that you really don’t mind dying, really, if dying beside her is the way to go. The last thing you could possibly hear is her light laughter, and knowing that she’s happy and safe makes you happy. It would be great if she stays alive, she has so much to live for, and that you dying trying to keep her alive would be an honourable death.

* * *

 

_Oh, my God, I feel it in the air_  
 _Telephone wires above are sizzling like a snare_  
 _Honey, I'm on fire, I feel it everywhere_  
 _Nothing scares me anymore_

You don’t let these deep, dark thoughts catch up to you, though, but the Aerosmith song that plays on the radio does, and you scream along to this iconic tune. “Dream on, dream on, dream yourself a dream come true,” you riff with Jim Kirk like you two are the long-lost twins that the girlfriend/roommate has pointed out when you two were introduced to each other prior to the car ride, right down to the light-coloured hair and the blue eyes.

You break out into laughter again and everyone follows suit, and you take a risk that you know none of your parents would ever consent you to do: you stand up and throw your hands in the air and scream jubilantly, embracing the cold San Francisco evening air like in that early twenty-first century movie starring Logan Lerman based on that book about wallflowers.

Her roommate is amused greatly but with a worried tone she asks you to sit back down, but you don’t listen.

She looks at you with awe, with admiration and amusement, and you hold your ground. You want to impress her. And do that you will.

* * *

 

_Kiss me hard before you go_  
 _Summertime sadness_  
 _I just wanted you to know_  
 _That, baby, you're the best_

You have no idea where Jim Kirk brought you, but you sit down a little while later, you heave big breath and exploding into peals of laughter, and she joins you in your giggles, putting an arm over your shoulder. She’s pressed against you tightly, and you don’t know what you’re happy about anymore: the remainder of your adrenaline trying to exhaust itself from your being, or the fact that she’s closed any distance between the both of you, like she’s trying to put your bodies together into one.

* * *

 

_I think I'll miss you forever_  
 _Like the stars miss the sun in the morning sky_  
 _Later's better than never_  
 _Even if you're gone I'm gonna drive_

You two are walking the campuses on a weekend, and on a strange hour. Not a soul is in sight, when she asks you if you’d miss her when she gets assigned.

You laugh and you tell her that you will forever, and she chuckles to herself.

Like how, you begin, Vulcans, cannot manage to grasp of emotion, you say, and she laughs brightly, like an ethereal fairy-like twinkle of a laugh.

That.

You’re going to miss that.

You think it’s too late but you tell her she’s the best you’ve ever had, and she smiles so widely you think it’s going to pierce a Klingon’s eight-chambered heart so bad that they will defect and join the Federation.

That’s how you achieve intergalactic peace: with her bright, confident smile.

She hugs you tightly, and she whispers a “thank you” and an “I’ll miss you too”, and you return her hug with your whole being. It’s hard, but you do. She’s un-jaded you.

* * *

 

_I've got that summertime, summertime sadness_  
 _S-s-summertime, summertime sadness_  
 _Got that summertime, summertime sadness_  
 _Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh_

But you remember, later in the day (and through all the years without her) that no matter how much you miss her, life still goes on. Painfully, slowly, surely. You’ll get angry and annoyed but when has anything too good to be true ever stayed forever within your grasp?

* * *

 

_Kiss me hard before you go_  
 _Summertime sadness_  
 _I just wanted you to know_  
 _That, baby, you're the best_

Too soon your cohort is faced with the terror of the Vulcan Distress Signal.

During the roll call of assignments you were given an assignment to stay on Earth, in the Science Academy to assist in formulating quick and efficient torpedoes on the spot (they need as much brain power as they could), and as soon as the adjutants dispatch you, you hurry in your black boots to find her and ask her about her assignment. You finally find her and you’re about to head towards her direction when she strides off and without even a second glance to her surroundings and follows Commander Spock.

You did not mean to eavesdrop, you only followed and waited for her, but you overhear their conversation, catch the word “bias” and Spock’s submission to her insistence and you know she’s gone.

“No. I’m assigned to the Enterprise.”

“…yes, I believe you are.”

“Thank you.”

You turn around (almost at the same time that she does when she turns away from Spock in a content fashion), trying to keep your head up high, but inside you are keeling in sadness.

She was too perfect. She was meant for greater, bigger things. Why did you believe in the slim to none chance that she would fall in love with you? You were never meant for perfection, you were never meant for skinny love.  

* * *

 

_I've got that summertime, summertime sadness_  
 _S-s-summertime, summertime sadness_  
 _Got that summertime, summertime sadness_  
 _Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh_

A few hours later a new reply is posted on the same sub-thread in the Starfleet Academy inter-class network:

> **LtCWMarcus_sbase32:** that’s mine. 


End file.
